


do you think about me now and then

by preromantics



Category: One Direction (Band), Radio 1 RPF
Genre: Fluff, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-09-19
Updated: 2012-09-19
Packaged: 2017-11-14 14:24:42
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,704
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/516160
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/preromantics/pseuds/preromantics
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p><i>It shouldn't be this easy.</i> (Harry makes a great prize, if prizes are on the table.)</p>
            </blockquote>





	do you think about me now and then

**Author's Note:**

  * For [strangers (iyr)](https://archiveofourown.org/users/iyr/gifts).



> Ridiculousness that meant to be something that might fit in a tumblr askbox. I may have missed that character limit by 1600 words or so. Ended up being a sort of warm up for my Harry/Nick feels!

 

It shouldn't be this easy, not in the morning while Nick's still mostly un-caffeinated and, as usual, wholly unprepared to deal with a shirtless and sleep-rumpled Harry Styles in his kitchen. The shift of tension is almost an audible click in the air when it happens, though, halfway through a ridiculous fight over who gets what mug when Harry goes to pour them both coffee (because he's a gracious host and has less of a hangover than usual, which means he got up before Harry and started the brew and maybe spent a few minutes staring at Harry curled up on his couch, shirtless and covered in a horrible knit throw monstrosity that's a family heirloom Nick can't find it in himself to throw out, with the hiss of water brewing the only sound in the apartment besides the muted city noise outside.) 

One second Harry's darting for the drawer with the pointy utensils because he fights dirty and the next Nick's got both of Harry's wrists in his hands, pressing them behind Harry and backing Harry up into the counter across from the utensil drawer. Harry goes with the movement for a moment, leaning into Nick's neck and laughing against his skin, trying to squirm his arms out of Nick's grip until his back hits the counter edge.

Nick opens his mouth in order to let out some sort of triumphant noise, because when Harry's not still a bit sleepy he's usually much harder to catch, but the shift in the moment happens right about then, Harry going loose and pliant against the counter behind him, arms going limp where Nick has them twisted loosely behind his back, his fingers curled tight around both of Harry's wrists. 

Harry doesn't say anything, doesn't move to push him off, just breathes quietly against Nick's neck while the moment stretches on.

"I win," Nick says, automatic, throat going dry. He doesn't want to say anything at all, really, wants instead to lean in properly and give up their long-going bit and see if Harry's slick bottom lip is as soft as he remembers it, too drunk in the back of a cab at half past four in the morning. (He's mostly convinced himself by now that Harry doesn't remember, was sloshed enough as it was, all over-eager hands and elbows and knees, half in Nick's laugh before Nick pushed him off, overly aware, threaded his fingers through Harry's hair for the rest of the ride instead and let Harry nuzzle into his side.)

"Do you?" Harry says, and he's slumped just right into the countertop and the press of Nick's hands that when he leans away from where he'd been laughing into Nick's neck he's looking up at Nick through his fringe. He's got a long red indented line down his cheek and partly across his forehead from where the pillow Nick shoved under his head last night on the couch pressed into his skin all night and everything about the way he looks and the way he's looking at Nick, unfocused and soft, is indecent.

Nick wants to make a joke, could easily make this a joke, step back just a little and let go of where Harry's skin is growing sticky warm under the curl of his fingers and go back to the mugs he was getting down from the cabinet. They're always a half beat, a half step, a bit of a joke away from anything at all, though, really. 

"It seems so," Nick says. He squeezes Harry's wrists for emphasis, and there's that little beat where he could back up and let go and poke Harry in the chest until he laughed. 

"A first," Harry says, the corner of his mouth turning up. There's another out, there, but Nick is even more reluctant to take it. He really, really should.

He never wins their little play fights, was all set to relinquish his favorite mug -- the one with a cat sporting the Queen's hair and a bow tie that makes no sense but that Harry absolutely loves -- to Harry, anyway, as soon as Harry started to get breathless and a little crazy eyed a minute in. (He usually looses because he gives in, but also because Harry has the location of all the pointy things Nick's kitchen contains memorized and can get to them quicker.)

Harry nudges his knee against Nick's own. "Suppose you deserve an award, then, for winning," he says, low.

"One of your VMAs up for grabs? It'd make a nice conversation piece on the mantle," Nick says, and  _there's_ the joke, the thing to get rid of the tension and the crazy (near-constant, who is he kidding) urge settled tight and low in his spine to just lean all the way forward and get it over with, kiss Harry properly against his kitchen counter and hold him there by his wrists until he melts into Nick entirely.

Nick loosens his grip on Harry's wrists, opens his mouth to laugh, though he's not entirely sure he'll manage anything better than some sort of awful dying whale noise, with how Harry's tilting his head and just looking at him, not joining in on the joke. 

Harry doesn't go along with their usual unspoken way of doing things this time, even when Nick wants to nudge him and remind him this is how it works, this is how it has to work, how Nick balances waking up with Harry in his kitchen with what's left of his sanity. Instead, Harry follows the movement of Nick pulling his arms back and threads their fingers together in the small space still left between them and  _tugs,_ bringing Nick's hands back around and then stepping off the counter to get at Nick's  _mouth,_ and oh. 

"You win," Harry reminds him in the breath it takes for him to lean all the way in.

_I did,_ Nick thinks, blames it on the sleep he's still trying to shake off and the sweat on Harry's palms where their fingers are tangled together against the warm and bare dip of Harry's back, like this might be as much as a overly thought-out jump for Harry as it is for Nick. Nick's forearms are trapped between Harry's skin and the counter and the sharp press of the edge is enough to keep him grounded through the first slick press of Harry's mouth against his own, just in case Harry pulls back after only a second and laughs and dances around him to get at the queen-cat mug. 

He doesn't, though, and Nick groans into the way Harry parts his mouth when Nick surges forward to kiss him properly, groans again when Harry melts back against the counter and against Nick's arms, letting a little noise out low in his throat. Nick tries to coax it out of him again, letting go of one of Harry's hands to get at Harry's jaw, tilt him into a better angle for Nick to lick inside his mouth, to press closer when Harry's hand comes around to wrap around his shoulders. 

"Harry," Nick manages between Harry's little noises, wanting to grin when Harry's palm spreads out over his shoulder blade to tug him closer as soon as he leans back a centimeter to get the word out. 

"Nick," Harry says, kissing Nick closed-mouth, "Nick," pulling Nick's bottom lip between his own and then backing off with a little slick pop, " _Nick._ "

"Yeah," Nick agrees, rolling forward to press fully against Harry as he kisses from Harry's open mouth to the line of his jaw, dragging his lips there and trying to breathe properly for a moment. He ducks his head down onto Harry's shoulder when he presses a last open-mouthed kiss under Harry's ear, nosing his hair out of the way to get at skin, and laughs, low and overwhelmed against Harry's skin.

They're both quiet for a few beats and Nick can feel the rise and fall of Harry's chest against his own. Nick feels sort of giddy, once his head sorts everything else, and also like he wants to stay like this forever, head tucked against Harry's shoulder, never having to move and figure anything out.

"How're you going to manage the breakfast show if you're this dense in the morning," Harry says, words a breathless rush, and Nick catches the beginning of a brillant smile on Harry's face when he leans back up.

"Dense?" Nick says. "I'm brillant in the morning."

Harry's eyebrows scrunch together and he pulls and exaggerated face. 

"Well, I can manage the expensive monstrosity of a coffee machine you dumped over here last month, at least," Nick amends. 

Harry falls forward against him, off the counter, and his nose knocks into Nick's cheek. "Should've kissed me sooner," he says, voice gone a little quiet again. 

Nick isn't sure if he means just this morning or in general, doesn't really want to think about it, not right at this moment. He can go back to the exact moment he wanted to kiss Harry for the first time and didn't, and right now is not the time for that conversation. 

"Was saving you for a prize, apparently," is what he ends up saying.

Harry laughs, drags his nose down Nick's cheek until he gets at his mouth, presses a quick kiss there and then pushes him away. "I still want the cat mug," Harry says. 

Nick rolls his eyes. "You can  _have it_ , if you like it that much, take it home with you."

Harry turns halfway on his way to the mug. "What use would it be at mine?" he asks, and looks honestly puzzled, like he'd never be drinking coffee from his expensive coffee maker in the morning anywhere but at Nick's. 

Nick shakes his head, fingers itching at his side to step forward and pull Harry back against him and kiss him until noon. He raises his hands after a moment, extending his arms to Harry, and Harry abandons his walk to the mug and comes back easily, lets Nick kiss the puzzled expression on his face into a smile while they maneuver themselves slowly across the kitchen to eventually get at the coffee.  


End file.
